


Extraction Part Two

by Stevieschrodinger



Series: Extraction [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bathing/Washing, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America Steve Rogers, Cooking, Food Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Soup, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Surgery, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stevieschrodinger/pseuds/Stevieschrodinger
Summary: I recommend reading Extraction Part One first.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Extraction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180844
Comments: 36
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> After the fantastic feedback in the comments for Extraction Part One, I was encouraged to write this. Thank you everyone, seriously, the comments keep me going!
> 
> I intend to update weeklyish until completion.
> 
> Heed the tags - Bucky is not in a good way at the beginning, and his recovery will be a journey.
> 
> I will try and TW at the start of every chapter - for this one it's a lot of medical stuff, and Steve generally not handling things very well at first.

“Steve.”

He slowly comes back to himself, someone's shaking his shoulder. It’s Sam. He’s still holding Bucky’s hand. He’s still in medical. Right.

“Come on man, you gotta stop making that noise, you’re freaking out the staff.”

Steve looks back to their joined hands, then back up at Sam, “what?” His voice sounds rough. Like he’s been screaming.

“Steve you keep...it’s like you’re calling to him. He’s right there. It’s okay, okay? Look, you should come and eat, shower, take a nap, do something that's not...this. You’re stressing yourself, and everyone else out. They’re bringing in some gear to do a scan on him anyway, come on.”

“I…” Steve's fingers tighten their grip on Bucky’s hand without him having any say in it.

“You can’t be here Steve, you gotta let them do their thing. You won’t be able to help him if you’re a mess yourself.” There’s a little of Sam’s calming Beta scent finally seeping into Steve’s groggy consciousness. It’s reassuring. “Come on, shower, something to eat, we will be quick, and by the time we come back they’ll be done.”

“Sam...Sam I can’t loose him again I can’t...I’m not sure…”

“And you’re not gonna, but you have to let these medical types do their thing...it’s best for him Steve, you have no idea what’s been going on with him, he needs medical attention. You don’t want your Alpha hurting, do you Steve?”

It’s a soft target, but it works. It gets Steve moving, the thought of Bucky suffering enough of a motivator to get him out of the chair. It still takes all of Steve’s self control to unlace his fingers from Bucky’s.

He floats up to his apartment, not sure if anything that’s happening is even real, shock making his brain cloudy. The re-emergence of his Alpha has his Omega keening pathetically at the back of his mind. Driving him. 

He still hasn’t scented Bucky though. And he needs it, needs it to bring him home. To make it real.

Sam shoos him into the bathroom and Steve isn’t even sure that he showers. He knows he stands under the water but he can’t remember if he does anything whilst he’s there. He tries again. Tries to concentrate, but any thought that isn’t Bucky is nebulous and hard to grip.

He tries to get dressed, isn’t sure what happens. The next thing he’s aware of he’s sitting on the floor with a towel draped over his lap, Sam rubbing at his back, grounding him in scent and touch.

“C’mon Steve. We can do this. It’s fine, it’ll be fine. They’ve done their scans. Tony will be here in a minute to talk to you, come on, deep breaths.”

“I don’t...I don’t know what…”

“Where’s your scent blockers? If Tony walks in with you stinking like that…”

“Bathroom. Cabinet.”

He finds it and brings it back, “Steve you gotta concentrate, you gotta put this on, and you gotta get dressed okay? That’s it, don’t think of anything else, just one thing at a time okay? Focus. Scent blockers, get dressed.”

“Scent blockers. Get dressed.” Steve nods. Okay. Sam’s right. Two things, focus on that. Steve can do that. He might have a terrible track record for following orders, but this he can do. Scent blockers. Get dressed. Don’t think any further. Two things.

Sam slips out to give him some privacy, and Steve gets the scent blockers on successfully, muscle memory of the often repeated action taking over for him. Whilst he’s waiting for it to dry he hears the chime of the elevator. Tony and Sam’s quiet voices.

Bucky. Tony has news about Bucky. Okay. Steve can do this. He’s gotta hold it together for Bucky.

The thought straightens Steve spine for all of two minutes, and he nearly crumbles again trying to get dressed. Everything smells wrong. Everything feels wrong. Everything is too rough on his skin.

Deep breaths. Doing this for Bucky. The softest things Steve owns are an old fluffy pair of sleep pants and a much loved and often washed sweater, soft with wear. 

He doesn’t bother with underwear or socks, can’t bring himself to put on either, so he doesn’t.

He heads out to the lounge, Tony is perched in an armchair and Sam is sitting at one end of the sofa, both heads swivel in Steve’s direction when he comes in.

Tony’s nose rankles, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Steve,” Tony’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet, gentle, even with the blockers Steve must still have his own scent of distress lingering on his skin. “Steve,” Tony tries again, and this time Steve nods to show he’s listening, even if he can feel his body trying to curl up into himself at the far end of the sofa, as far away from both men as he can get and still sit.

“Okay...I’m here out of courtesy to tell you what’s going to happen sweet-” Tony ducks his head, covering himself for a second, clearly the endearment was not intentional. Steve must be in worse shape than even he realized. 

“This isn’t a discussion Steve, it’s what has to happen.” Steve nods again, to show he’s taking it in, “the van that Happy picked you up in was equipped to block signals, so is all of avengers tower, to an extent, but I’ve had Jarvis on the case in medical. Steve there are at least four separate signals emitting from him that we can tell, and his body is...well, there’s a lot of stuff in there that shouldn’t be. A lot of people are going to be looking for him, for one thing and another, and someone on the outside might be able to do something that could...set off something...inside him. He’s gotta have surgery Steve, we need to deactivate what we can, remove what we can’t. Anything might be dangerous. To him and to us.”

Steve sits for a minute, digesting all of that, “I just want him to be okay,” his voice sounds small in his own ears, and Tony's face crumples in sympathy.

“And that’s the goal Steve, I promise okay, everything in my power,” Tony gestures, hands apart, to stress that it will be everything in his power.

A deep sigh escapes out of Steve, “Okay Tony. Thank you.”

Sam’s quiet voice softly drifts out, “when are you…?”

“They’re already prepping him. I’m starting where I can with the arm. We got someone from orthodontics on the way, a couple of surgeons, a second anesthetist. Jarvis is still making contacts, we need a team. This is gonna take a while. There’s a lot.”

Steve’s aware that they are both looking at him without looking. He needs to get his shit together. Needs to be there for Bucky. Bucky’s been through so much...what has he been through?

“Tony...how is he here? I saw him fall...and he didn’t even know me.”

“Steve are you sure you-”

“You can’t protect me from this Tony. You’re not my Alpha.” Steve does his best to sound sure, to glare, but it is so hard. All he wants is the comfort of an Alpha. His Alpha. But his Alpha is unconscious several floors away, while Tony is the Alpha who is sitting in his territory, and he’s being authoritative and so very competent...it’s crossing Steve’s wires.

Tony hardly ever wears any kind of scent blocker, and right now isn’t any different. His vaguely spicy scent isn’t unpleasant to Steve, and apparently that’s enough for his distressed and...very confused Omega to want to go and curl up at Tony’s feet. One of Steve’s feet is on the floor without his permission, and he’s leaning forward off the sofa. He reigns it in, forces himself to stand but take a step away, not toward, Tony.

Steve fights it, forcing himself to think about Bucky...Bucky’s scent of sunshine warmed skin and wild woody forest is so ingrained into Steve that no other Alpha’s scent will ever truly be appealing but...he’s desperate.

Steve consciously locks his knees to stop himself from moving. 

“No...no I suppose not. Our current best guess, having looked at the blood samples...is that he got the serum, somehow. And then survived the fall and...then Hydra had him. He’s showing expected damage and chemical markers of someone who’s been in cryostasis. He’s been defrosted and refrozen a lot of times. There’s a pretty spectacular cocktail in his blood work. The come downs gonna be a bitch.”

Sam makes a disapproving noise at Tony’s last statement, subtly shaking his head. Tony grimaces. They can try all they like to soften the blow, but Steve knows that he’s right, there’s no protecting him from this.

There was no protecting Bucky, and he had to live it. The least Steve can do is know about it. He needs to be equipped to help his mate if he can.

“They pulled him out for missions...Nat couldn’t understand how it could be the same person for so many years...it has to be that.”

No one answers Steve, they just sit in speculative silence for a few minutes until Jarvis chimes softly, “Sir, they are ready for you in theater.”

“I need to...can I come down?” Steve internally flinches that he’s reverted to asking Tony for permission. He really didn’t mean to.

Tony and Sam both look desperately uncomfortable, but neither answer. “I’m coming down. I need to see.” This feels better. Sam’s right, one thing at a time. One mission at a time. Steve can do this if it’s a mission. A mission to help Bucky. “I can’t help him if I don’t know what he’s been through.”

Steve unfolds himself, not realizing until he does it how far he’d hunched inward, his arms protectively wrapped about his middle, he makes himself stand to his full Captain America height, “I’m coming with you.”

Tony pulls a face and looks unsure, but Sam’s obviously pleased that Steve’s found his spine, “sure thing, I’ll sit with you...but you should probably put some shoes on first.”

Steve and Sam can’t hear what’s going on in the room, but they can see. Jarvis keeps them informed as to who each person is, and their specialty, as they go in and out of theater.

Steve saw enough during the war to be fine watching a surgery, and Sam’s a medic anyway...it’s still difficult to watch, knowing that it’s Bucky on the table. Sam’s keeping up a steady flow of Beta calm. Beta’s all smell faintly floral to Steve, with Sam leaning towards exotically fruity and Barton moving more toward something vaguely talcum powder like.

Alphas tend to have earthier, spicier tones. 

During the war Bucky always maintained Steve smelled like warm bread and honey sandwiches. Steve stopped wearing the scent blockers pretty quickly. Partly because Bucky absolutely detested them, and partly because he was so thoroughly scented, any strangers passing by assumed it was his own natural Alpha scent.

Steve stares at Bucky’s face...can’t help filling in the details from memory, thinking about those steel grey eyes blinking open at him in the mornings, the dimness of their shared tent making them look a deep gunmetal grey.

Bucky's covered in a blue sheet with holes in to work through. They keep swapping it every time they need to work from a new site, moving fast and overlapping the material to try and maintain the last slither of Bucky’s dignity. His body’s different. Steve didn’t realize it was him until the last moment when they confronted each other, but now he’s painfully aware of the differences. 

Bucky rivals Steve in every way now. Before the serum, Bucky towered over Steve, a perfect example of on Alpha, sturdy but not overly defined musculature that comes from working physical jobs. Then during the war he was more lean, leg muscles strong from marching, but upper body loosing it’s definition from long hours of holding positions, sitting in trenches, and sniping from a safe perch.

Now though, you could probably use him as an anatomy chart. He doesn’t look like he has an ounce of fat on him anywhere, every muscle defined, and yet at the same time he’s pale, gaunt, so sick looking.

The images from scans are displayed on screens across the back wall, Steve’s eyes flick up to them, bright white defined shapes of things that definitely shouldn’t be there shining white against the lights.

Time becomes a strange syrupy thing, and Steve’s attention travels, trying to stay present, but also desperately trying to escape into his own mind. At one point there are three separate people working on Bucky simultaneously. Steve’s mind shies away from the horror of what’s been done to his mate.

Steve’s eyes flick to what’s going on, but keeps finding that they trail back to Bucky’s face. It’s so pale. So changed, yet still completely Bucky. Long, dirty hair that Bucky never would have tolerated has been tucked up under a blue cap.

In the end, Tony and Bruce give up on their initial plan. They just take the arm off. It lies on the table next to Bucky for a time, separate, but still connected by a complex looking arrangement of tubes and wiring. It takes nearly four hours for Bruce, Tony, and a surgeon to work through it all.

Another takes over, working on the mess of Bucky’s shoulder, removing what they can and making safe what they can’t. Almost eight hours later they get swapped back out for Tony and Bruce, who seem to have produced a temporary fixture to cover the opening on the shoulder.

An orthodontic surgeon removes four of Bucky’s back teeth. One of them is taken to be safely detonated in the basement.

An ear, nose and throat specialist is brought in just to remove a tube that had been hidden up Bucky’s nose. Despite being sedated, Bucky’s body convulses when the full length is pulled out.

Meanwhile, a surgeon is removing and closing a feeding tube fitted just above Bucky’s belly button.

Someone different rotates in to open Bucky up, they make three incisions and, using one to insert a camera and inflation tube, and the other two to insert tools, carefully removes a flat looking piece of plastic from deep inside Bucky’s abdomen. There are wires hanging from it, so it’s clearly a device of some sort.

An anesthetist taps out and is replaced by a different one. Likewise for two nurses.

A nurse removes some sort of fixed catheter from the end of Bucky’s penis. She then moves quickly and replaces it with one that empties into a bag, the bag immediately fills with urine, plumping out until she’s forced to empty it. He must have been so uncomfortable, but at least he was sleeping. 

A surgeon appears and makes an incision around the base of his penis, removing what looks like a curved piece of metal from inside the skin of what would be Bucky's knot.

There is no part of him that they haven't interfered with in some way.

Tony scans Bucky again, and several small incisions are made to remove devices of various sizes. One in his foot. One in his thigh. One in his pectoral. One in his neck.

Finally, Bucky is carefully rolled over. Three devices are removed from his spinal column.

The whole ordeal totals out at just shy of thirty four hours.

Sam had napped on and off through the whole thing, periodically bringing Steve bottles of water. Knowing that there was no chance of him eating, he also brought fruit smoothies bulked out with the high calorie protein powder Bruce had designed for him.

Steve didn’t want anything, at all, his stomach feeling like a brutally tight lump of lead, but with Sam’s encouragement he sipped at them.

Steve knew he could go about four days without sleep before he started to struggle, but he felt utterly exhausted. He hadn’t slept since...he doesn’t even know. Did he nap at Sam’s after he and Nat escaped Fort Leigh? He can’t remember.

His memories since seeing Bucky all seem muddled up. Everything feels confused, concentrating is difficult. His eyes feel full of sand and he aches in his bones.

But he’s still here, watching on the monitor as Bucky sleeps. They’d moved him to a room in the basement of the tower, a room built to house Bruce on his greener days.

Steve wouldn’t leave him, and had held onto the gurney, trailing behind, unable to let go.

It had been a quick journey, the team aware that once the chemical anesthesia was removed, it was likely Bucky would metabolize the rest rapidly and wake up. They’d moved quickly and efficiently, frowning at Steve in the way only a medical professional can every time he got in the way

Once Bucky had been slid from the gurney onto the bed, using something that looked vaguely like a thin plastic surfboard, everyone had left the room.

They'd stuck something to his chest, a small grey square, and it’s monitoring Bucky’s obs. The heart rate, oxygen saturation, blood pressure, temperature, all displayed on a small screen.

Bucky showed no signs of waking. Steve looks at the obs screen once more, “swear to me that if he so much as twitches you’ll wake me up.”

“Captain I am an Artificial Intelligence designed to follow direction-”

“Jarvis.”

“Captain, if Sargent Barnes shows any signs of waking I will inform you.”

“Thank you.”

Sam herds Steve back to his own room, where he falls into bed.

Despite the professional opinion of every medically trained person in the building, a number which currently ranks in the mid twenties, Bucky sleeps for almost six hours.

Maybe he does it just to spite them, it’s the sort of thing he would do.

Steve wakes to Jarvis’ gentle chiming, “yes?”

“Captain, Sargent Barnes has shown signs of rousing, and Maria Hill has requested your presence in the common area. Sir, Mr Wilson, and Agent Romanov are already in attendance.”

Steve actually makes it as far as the elevator before he realizes he’s still wearing the clothes he put on nearly two days ago. Still no underwear.

He backtracks, rapidly stripping, reapplying his scent blockers, throwing on a pair of boxers and the first jeans and sweat shirt his hands land on.

He forces his feet into a pair of sneaks, no socks, and completely crushes the back of them in the process. He just walks on it, feeling little and caring less.

Steve stomps into the communal lounge, not bothering to get far into the room before he’s calling out, “make it fast!”

Maria opens her mouth, but Tony cuts her off, “the very short version, Fury’s alive, but so's Hydra, and they’re going to use Zola’s algorithm to hijack Insight and kill a lot of people. There is a plan.”

Steve could cry. God he wants nothing more than to curl up and wish it all away. Every fiber of his insides are screaming at him to just…turn around. To ignore this. To go to Bucky.

But that’s not what he’s for. Steve doesn’t get to be just a man. 

He balls up his fists, presses them so hard against his eyes he can feel it pressing into his brain. He does it until it’s painful, until he thinks his orbital socket might have cracked and he can see the sparks of blood vessels bursting behind his eyes.

When he puts his hands down, Tony speaks again, “Steve, stay here, this doesn’t have to be your fight.”

Ironically enough, it’s Tony trying to look after him again that forces him into a decision, even if it is just to prove a point.

Steve allows himself one deep breath before turning back to the elevator, “everyone suit up, wheels up in fifteen.” 

He sounds dead inside, even to himself.

Bruce meets him at the door of the jet, pressing a com link into his hand, “I won’t leave him.”

Steve has Bruce in one ear and his team in the other, and it’s how he keeps going. 

Tony, Steve and Sam take a helicarrier each. Nat and Maria run interference on the ground, meeting up with Clint and Sharon somewhere along the way. Their numbers bolstered by agents who are either loyal to Shield, or who are savvy enough to see that Hydra won’t win today and are switching sides.

Every minute or so, Bruce updates Steve of Bucky’s obs. He hasn’t gotten out of bed, but he is definitely awake, shivering, and has pulled a blanket up over himself.

Bruce suspects he’s hitting the peak of his withdrawals.

Steve hates himself for not being there.

Steve’s nearly back at the tower when he hears that Pierce has been ousted and everything Hydra and Shield ever was has been brutally exposed by Nat.

He doesn’t care.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve takes the worlds fastest shower. Less than two minutes after he’d said “Charlie lock,” he’d realized his only way out was to jump. The carriers were already firing on each other.

Neither Tony or Sam had managed to get to him in time, and he’d hit the Potomac. Which he’s now discovering absolutely stinks if you’ve been submerged in it and subsequently stood in the back of a jet to air dry.

He scrubs himself as best he can, whilst still desperately rushing, not even bothering to dry his hair as he roughly wipes himself over with a towel. His hand stills for a moment, hovering over the scent blockers. 

“Jarvis, patch me through to Bruce.”

There’s a soft chime, and the Bruce’s voice filters through, “Obs still look good Steve, he’s healing, we’ve no worries.”

“Scent blockers?”

“Definitely yes, Steve.” Steve feels a strong flash of affection for Bruce when he doesn’t even question that he will be going in to see Bucky. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way of guaranteeing...he might not recognize you. And you might just smell like upset Omega to him and-”

“That’ll stress him the fuck out?”

“Potentially. Yes.”

Steve goes ham on the scent blockers.

“Thanks Bruce, ETA five minutes.” Another soft chime indicates Jarvis has broken the connection.

Steve dresses in boxers, soft comfortable sweats, and manages to find a tee shirt that looks a little big even on him. He has no idea what he will be facing down there, but the last time Bucky saw him, they were fighting.

He was out to kill Steve. That might be the last and only memory he has, he certainly hadn’t recognized Steve at all.

Or if he did, he showed no sign of it.

Steve doesn’t even bother with shoes, getting into the elevator barefoot. Now that he’s had time to think about it, he wants to appear as harmless as possible.

Bruce is a non des. Apparently, he was a Beta before the green guy turned up, and now neither he nor Hulk have a designation. When Steve walks into the little observation room, it smells faintly of Bruce’s aftershave and the green tea that he’s sipping, and not much else.

Steve can see on the screen that Bucky’s obs are different from before...heart rate, temperature, blood pressure, everything is higher than it was. Bucky’s curled himself up under a blanket on the rumpled sheet, a lump in the middle of the mattress. There’s an IV bag hanging from a hook on the wall at the head of the bed.

“Need to know Steve, before you go in, they had him on a hell of a cocktail, and some of it was being dripped into him from a feeder hidden in the arm. There were anti-psychotics, analgesics, hormones that I can’t even guess at the purpose of, mood stabilizers, and his libido was suppressed.” Bruce speaks evenly, quietly, telling Steve the minimum of what he needs. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever really been more grateful to anyone, so he stands and listens. “When it became evident he wasn’t waking up quickly, I went in and started him on an IV, it should help a little, and if he rips it out he cant do too much damage. These were designed for you, so they take about four hours to run and he’s on his third one, but they have pretty much all the essentials in.” Bruce produces another IV bag in a sealed plastic bag, he opens it and shows Steve the connector and how to change the bag, “the current one will be done in around 45 minutes, I expect the nasal gastric and PEG tubes have been used for food, fluids and medications, so you might have trouble getting him to eat and drink at first, the more of these we can get into him for now, the better.” Bruce passes the bag over, “I don’t want to spook him, but if you ask a question Jarvis and I will do our best unobtrusively answer, there’s a display screen on the inside of the door, so we will communicate with you that way.”

“Thank you, Bruce, so much,” Bruce waves him away.

“Steve?” Steve turns, he’s almost in the doorway, and desperate to get inside, but he gives Bruce another minute, “I can’t predict anything, but I can tell you he’s uncomfortable. I’m going to start going through the Hydra files to see if I can find anything useful.”

Steve nods again before sliding in through the doorway. He takes in the space, although the room itself is more or less Hulk proof, the stuff in it isn’t, and it was furnished more with Bruce in mind than the green guy. The bed is easily a king size, and although Bucky was slid onto the bed naked and fresh from surgery, they’d left a white sheet over him for his dignity. He’s pulled a fluffy looking blanket over himself at some point, and curled up on his side. Steve can see from the doorway that he’s shivering.

There’s a comfortable looking armchair, and an empty doorway that leads into a bathroom. There are some shelves next to the doorway, Steve can see towels and extra blankets and clean sheets folded up, and what looks like sweats and hoodies.

He mentally reprimands himself, he didn’t even think to bring anything for Bucky to wear.

The room smells faintly of antiseptic, iodine, sweat, urine and...Bucky. A Bucky that smells sick, but still, it’s pure Bucky.

Steve drags in a lungful, and without really thinking about it, gravitates towards the bed. He puts down the IV kit on the seat of the armchair, and then he’s standing over Bucky, thighs pressed against the edge of the mattress.

He has absolutely no idea what to do. Will Bucky even know him? Will he lash out? Bruce thinks he’s suffering, is there anything Steve can even do to help him? 

Bucky’s hair is hanging out from underneath the blanket, and the IV tubing is disappearing under it, so he decides to lift the nearest corner. He doesn’t even have his head on a pillow, just curled up flat on his side. He’s lying on his left side, so there’s no arm in the way. His right arm is resting across his abdomen, hair covering his face.

Steve gently leans forward over the mattress, cautiously pushing Bucky’s hair out of the way. It’s lank with grease and dirt, terribly knotted, and doesn’t smell very pleasant when Steve disturbs it with his fingertips.

Even now there are faint streaks of black on Bucky’s face, and his eyes are scrunched tight shut. Not asleep then. With the covers partially removed, Steve can see just how badly Bucky is shivering. Beads of sweat are clear on Bucky’s face and exposed chest, he’s flush with color. There’s a clear damp patch on the sheet.

Bucky looks absolutely miserable. Steve’s heart breaks for him all over again.

Steve goes to the shelves and gets a flannel and a towel, going into the bathroom to wet it with roughly body temperature water. Well, body temperature for Steve, he assumes Bucky won’t be too different when he’s his usual self, now that they both have the serum.

Bucky twitches when Steve does his best to wipe his face, but otherwise doesn’t react, and Steve carefully dries him too. Despite Steve’s best effort with the flannel, the towel comes away a little dirty from Bucky’s hairline, but now his face is a pink, clean circle resting against the sheet.

Steve checks the IV, he thinks he has maybe another 20 minutes, so he tucks the sheet and blanket back over Bucky’s bare chest, up to his chin, and with nothing else to do he pulls the armchair over, and waits.

He thinks about rescuing Bucky during the war...and starts to realize that must have been when Bucky got the serum. He had definitely been stronger, strong enough to pin Steve even. He’d always put it down to Bucky being...well...a bit feral. Dismissing it.

He probably shouldn’t have.

Bucky was a great sniper before but...after...he was uncanny. Bucky Barnes didn’t miss. Even in terrible conditions, even in light so dim he shouldn’t have been able to see the target, let alone hit it.

They were in the middle of a war though, and Bucky was invaluable. Steve wasn’t one for questioning gifts when soldiers were dying. There was mission after mission, fight after fight, and cold damp nights huddled skin to skin finding comfort where they could. Can Steve be blamed for not noticing the differences in Bucky, even with everything else going on?

Steve knows he’s fooling himself. He noticed. He just didn’t question. Far too pleased to finally have Bucky in the way he’d always wanted to risk rocking the boat in any way.

If Steve had realized...if he’d have bothered to think about it...would he have realized that Bucky could have survived the fall?

Would he have thought to look for him, rather than immediately giving him up for dead?

Could he have prevented his mate from suffering literal decades of torture?

Something is beeping quietly, and it breaks Steve out of his thoughts. He’s distracted enough that it takes him a few breaths to get himself together enough to realize that it is obviously the drip finishing. 

Steve has the wet flannel wrapped in the towel still gripped in his lap too. He gets up, prioritizing the drip first so that he can stop the beeping. Once the new bag is up, he takes down the old one and takes it with the towel and flannel into the bathroom. He throws the empty drip bag into the trash, and the towel and flannel into the laundry basket.

He splashes some cold water on his face, freshening himself up, before returning to the chair next to the bed.

He doesn’t move again for nearly three hours. Other than the gentle tremors Steve can see through the blanket, neither does Bucky.

Even though Steve knows there’s nothing to be done for it. He knows he can’t take it back. He knows he can’t let it affect taking care of Bucky now. Even though he knows all these things, it’s three hours of crushing guilt and self recrimination.

Steve spends those hours spiraling, and he knows it’s happening, but can’t seem to stop himself. He could have saved Bucky. If he’d stopped and thought and pulled his head out of his ass, things would have been different. Better.

Neither one of them would have had to die and wake up in a different time. At least Steve got to sleep through it...his mate had suffered decades of torture.

At the hands of the very people Steve had thought he’d stopped. Another failure.

Thankfully, he’s finally interrupted by a very soft chime. It’s the noise Jarvis uses to get your attention unobtrusively. Steve often thinks that if Jarvis were a human butler for real, it would be a very soft clearing of the throat.

Steve turns to the screen on the back of the door. It reads, ‘have little info and care package. Sam’s here.’

Steve gets up, lingering one last look at Bucky’s face before he slips through the automatic door. He looks pained, eyes still scrunched tight closed, curled up as small as he can make himself. Steve drags himself through the doorway.

Sam greets him with his usual gap tooth smile, and just the sight of it makes Steve feel a little better. Like if he has Sam and Bruce on side, maybe this’ll work out okay.

“Sit Steve,” Sam hands him a nondescript Pizza box, so Steve knows it’s come from the staff eatery up in the tower, “eat while Bruce talks.”

The pizza’s only a plain cheese, but it’s an extra large on a thick doughy base and as soon as the smell hits him, Steve realizes that he’s starving. He digs in.

“There’s a fair amount of data on him,” Bruce starts to explain calmly, “but a lot of it is protocol for removing him from cryo, feeding, medicating, that sort of thing. How to…” and Bruce looks uncomfortable enough that Steve stops chewing… “it’s like reading a user manual for a piece of equipment. How to wipe him, how to store him, how to issue orders.” Bruce looks down at the floor for a minute, gathering himself, “there are reports from his missions, I haven't read them. It’s going to take a while to sift through it for something we can use. There’s nothing on how he was...made.” Steve flinches, but goes back to eating, nodding for Bruce to continue, “Steve they wiped his memory every time he was out...and I’ve been looking at the scans from before the surgery, but with your permission, I’d like to contact an expert. The damage is extensive.”

Steve swallows, and it’s like swallowing lead, but he forces himself. He needs the calories, “whatever you think Bruce...just…”

Steve shrugs, not even knowing what he was going to say. Bruce seems to know though, “Jarvis has been bringing in the best of the best, and no one who has come into contact with him knows who he is, everyone's been gagged with NDA’s. Tony’s people have been thorough.”

It suddenly occurs to Steve that Tony has done a lot for Bucky. An incredible amount, the rescue, taking him in, the doctors, even thinking about legally protecting Bucky. Non of it had even really occurred to him. He doesn’t think a thank you card and fruit basket will cut it.

Now those files are common knowledge… “someone will try and come for him, if they find out that he’s here?”

“I don’t know Steve, Hydra will, I assume, at the very least be in disarray for a while, but there’s a real possibility they will want their asset back at some point...not to mention the crimes he’s committed.”

“But that’s not-”

Bruce cuts him off with a gentle hand gesture and a sympathetic look, “we know that Steve, but you’d have to prove it. Lawfully. But let’s not worry about that, hopefully that battle is a way away yet. Let’s concentrate on getting him better for now. The serum can do a lot, you’re proof enough of that. Let’s give him time to recover.” Everything Bruce is saying is sensible, kind, yet completely honest. It’s Bruce all over.

“Thank you.”

There's a few minutes of silence, and Steve uses it to inhale another slice of pizza. Sam nudges a box by his feet, “didn’t know low long you’d be, I brought Barnes a change of clean clothes, and your laptop. Some medical supplies too, other than you, Bruce is the only one who’s safe to be in there, but we assumed you’d want to look after him. There’s urine bottles, you’ll need to empty his catheter at some point, and some meal replacement drinks, if you can get him to take anything. They didn’t stitch anything, it was all glued, so that’ll peel out on it’s own as the wounds heal, but there’s dressing packs in there just in case. There’s some neutral scent shower gel and shampoo in there too, some other bits, okay? Just shout if you need anything.”

“Thanks Sam, really.” Sam’s being very practical, and Steve is once again, endlessly indebted to his friends.

“We will keep looking, and I’ll let you know when Jarvis sources a suitable expert.”

“Actually, Dr. Banner, Sir and I have compiled a shortlist and are awaiting your input.”

“Thank you Jarvis, tell Tony I’m on my way up,” Bruce drags himself out of his chair with a groan, and it finally registers with Steve just how tired he looks.

“Guys, Jarvis can keep an eye on us, and we won’t know how he is until he starts recovering...you should both get some rest.”

Bruce nods, ruffling his already messy hair, “I’ll just go and see Tony and then I will, the sooner we can get someone involved, the better,” he fishes into a cupboard and pulls out two more IV kits, “call me optimistic,” he tells Steve as he hands them over.

Sam doesn’t say anything, but squeezes Steve’s arm on the way out.

Steve nails the rest of the pizza, forcing it down, before he puts the two IV kits on top of the box that Sam brought down. He lifts it all together and takes it back into the room. Bucky still hasn’t moved, but Steve thinks that maybe he’s shivering a little less. His IV is beeping again, and Steve quickly puts the box down and unpacks a new bag, connecting it up and then discarding the old one in the trash in the bathroom. There’s no door on the bathroom, it’s just an opening, but from what he could see from the angle of the monitors, he knows non of them have line of sight through the doorway. He relieves himself, then washes his hands and goes back out to the bedroom. 

The box was surprisingly heavy, and after investigating Steve finds it’s because of the amount of liquids in there, six bottles of water and six of the high calorie meal replacement drinks Sam described. Steve cracks one of the bottles of water and drains half of it.

The urine bottles are the disposable recycled card kind, and Steve pulls one out, investigating under the covers again, but this time from the bottom. The catheter bag is strapped to Bucky’s thigh. He’s meatier than Steve remembers, thicker everywhere, his thighs even bigger than Steve’s now.

He finds the valve at the bottom of the bag, and it’s a simple flip valve, Steve can see the color through the bag, and knows it’s too dark. It smells terrible. Steve’s careful to do the valve up and squeeze the end of the rubber tubing to get any stray drops out. He goes and empties the bottle into the toilet before tossing it and washing his hands again.

“Just call me nurse Steve,” he says to himself in the mirror.

Steve asked Jarvis for all the info Nat dumped from Shield and Hydra to uploaded onto his laptop, so he can start going through it. After his eyes slide from the screen to Bucky’s face for the fourth time he gives up, packing it away and just sitting in the armchair, staring.

It’s about another two hours before the shivering stops, and another half an hour after that before Bucky’s face relaxes. He falls asleep.

Steve watches him, breathing deep the scent of his mate. It’s faint, obviously still restricted by the lingering scent blockers Bucky must have been wearing. Even vaguely distressed as it is, it slowly fills him, creeping into all the broken places inside and filing them up. Making him whole again. Relaxing him in a way he hasn’t felt since the day Bucky died. His instincts, responding to the scent of his mate, are settling in a way Steve had almost forgotten, only the sleight tang of distress and sickness keeping him a little on edge.

Steve hasn’t felt anything like this since the day Bucky died. Or the day Steve thought he’d died.

Something uncurls inside of Steve, something warm and comfortable, a bone deep feeling of knowing all is right with the world. He’s not alone any more.

Steve wakes to the faint sound of beeping. The IV he finally thinks, brain fuzzy from napping, must be time again. He rubs sleep out of his eyes and reaching blearily for the next kit. He checks in on Bucky, only to freeze with his hand on the bag. Bucky’s grey eyes are open, awake and alert. 

And he’s staring straight at Steve.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Dr. Cho is a geneticist and not a brain doctor - I'm just grabbing a character.
> 
> TW - post Hydra distress for Bucky. Swallowing/food issues. Hydra heavily medicating The Winter Soldier.

“Hey there, Buck,” Steve sits back slowly in the chair, not making any sudden movements, keeping his hands open, palms flat and relaxed. 

He doesn’t want to send any wrong signals. If Bucky recognizes him, he’s not showing it.

“How are you feeling?” No answer, but Steve quietly keeps up the conversation. “I’m going to get up now, to stop the beeping,” he points to the IV bag, “just going to stand and switch this off.” Steve moves as he talks, “had me worried there Buck, glad to see you’re awake now. It’s safe here, you’re gonna be alright, okay?” Steve's voice cracks harshly at the last word, and he has to shut his eyes for a moment and haul in a shaky breath, trying to put the facade back up.

Bucky’s eyes track Steve’s movements. Still no answer, but Steve unhooks the IV to quiet it.

“I’ve got some clothes for you, if you want to get dressed, and some water, you thirsty?”

Steve sits on the edge of the chair, and opens a new bottle of water, so Bucky can watch him break the seal, then takes a sip himself before holding the bottle out.

Bucky finally moves, sliding forward cautiously. His eyes are flickering everywhere now, taking in the room, Steve, the doorways. Steve can’t tell if it’s a tactical assessment or panic, because Bucky smells the same as he did whilst he was sleeping. Like a sick Alpha, like distress. Bucky’s left shoulder shifts, and then his eyes flicker down to the cover, something shows across his gaze, a minuscule tightening around his eyes, and then it’s gone.

It must be jarring to wake up missing an arm, but that’s the only reaction Steve gets, Bucky burying it again. Either that or he just doesn’t care. Steve holds the bottle out, and Bucky leans forward, sniffing at the opening, but then leans back and does nothing. He isn’t at all concerned with his nudity, oblivious to the fact that he’s mostly slipped out from under the sheet and blanket.

Steve instinctively leans forward, covering him again. He can’t help but take in the pink wounds on his abdomen, the largish one above his belly button, the stark red line tracing along the loose skin at the base of his penis. The last one looks even more stark, Bucky has an odd bald patch where they'd shaved his nearby pubic hair. If Bucky’s in any pain, he’s not showing it. Steve covers it all as best he can.

“Here Buck, just try,” leaning forward in his chair, Steve presses the mouth of the bottle to Bucky’s lips, and tips in a tiny amount. Bucky’s mouth moves for a couple of seconds, tongue working, so Steve does it again, a little more. This time Bucky draws back, coughing and spluttering, and a little water dribbles out of the corner of his mouth.

He scowls at the bottle in Steve’s hand, and in literally any other circumstance, Steve would probably be laughing at him.

The next few hours pass pretty uneventfully. Steve tries to contain his joy at having Bucky back, no matter the capacity that’s in. It takes four more gentle attempts before Bucky swallows a small mouthful of water without incident. After a few more successful mouthfuls, Bucky had eventually started to blink tiredly, and Steve had emptied his catheter bag again before nudging him gently to lie back down. Steve took the opportunity to hook up the last IV bag he had with him, heeding Bruce’s advice. Bucky’s scent had leveled out a little, smelling slightly less sick, but it didn’t take much for him to fall asleep again, so Steve followed suit, napping in the armchair.

Steve cranes his neck to look at the screen, checking on Bucky again even as he shovels steak and veg into his mouth, determined not to be away too long.

“Steve, you’re going to give yourself indigestion, slow down. He’s not going anywhere.”

“He might need me.”

Sam rolls his eyes but it’s gentled with a smile, “you need to shower, change, and sleep in a bed for a bit.”

“I will Sam, I will, I just need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Steve, he’ll be fine, Jarvis is watching. And he’s totally got this drinking thing down pat already, look at him.”

Sam doesn’t need to say it, Steve’s already craning his neck again, Bucky’s got a bottle clutched tightly in his hand, taking small measured sips before lowering it to rest on his knee. He still frowns a little as he swallows carefully, the picture of concentration. 

It’s one of the flavored meal replacement drinks, they’re still clear fluids, meant to be easier on the digestive system. Bucky’s sipped at four of them over course of the past few hours, Steve offering one every time Bucky so much as looked at him. Even though they are a high calorie meal replacement for a regular human, the bottles look tiny in Bucky’s hand.

He’d allowed Steve to pull out the IV needle without so much as a flinch, and when Steve rubbed away the bead of blood with his thumb, it’d already healed closed.

“I’ll see if I can get him cleaned up first, and then I will Sam.”

“Good, see that you do. By the time you’ve done all that and gotten a few hours sleep, the fancy brain lady should be in touch. This is a marathon Steve, not a sprint, you’re going to be no good to him if you flake out in the first week. This is gonna be a long ass road.”

“I know Sam, I do, whatever it takes, I’m prepared to hang on for it.”

“I’ll check in on him for you, okay?” Sam smiles and gives his shoulder a squeeze before leaving, and it’s with Sam's encouraging advice ringing in his ears that Steve forces himself to eat until the bottom of the take away container is clear. He knows he wouldn’t have eaten if Sam hadn’t brought him some food and encouraged him out of Bucky’s room. And even then he had to sweeten the deal by saying he’d brought another crate of drinks for him.

Steve heads back in just as Bucky’s carefully standing the empty bottle on the floor at his feet. He sits up and blinks at Steve, and Steve doesn't know if Bucky’s looking at him expectantly or if he’s just imagining it.

“Come on Buck, let’s get you cleaned up and I can change the sheets, okay?”

Steve takes the neutral scent shower gel and shampoo out of the box, and grabs some towels and a flannel off the shelves on his way past to the bathroom.

Carefully taking Bucky’s hand, he allows himself to be pulled to his feet, the sheet and blankets falling away. He pads after Steve obediently, seemingly not even remotely worried about his nudity. Out of decency Steve tries to keep his eyes averted, it doesn’t feel right to look at Bucky like that when he doesn’t even know who Steve is. Steve keeps his glances to the minimum, and only to assess Bucky’s quickly healing wounds. The glue is already stating to peel at the edges of some of them as Bucky’s body pushes it out.

Steve starts the shower up, leaning over the edge of the bath to check the temperature on his hand before he turns back to Bucky. Bucky however, has gone completely tense. His eyes seemed to have glazed over, staring at nothing, not even blinking. Steve reaches for him again, but when he takes Bucky’s hand, it doesn’t move in his. Bucky takes a mechanical step closer, but it’s not the soft padding step that had followed him into the bathroom. Before, when Steve had taken Bucky’s hand, it’d been loose, and had lifted easily with Steve’s, now it’s frozen, Bucky’s arm stuck to his side, his shoulders hunching slightly as he takes another step towards the water.

Bucky’s moving forward, but clearly this isn’t right. Moving on instinct, Steve turns the shower off. By increments, Bucky relaxes. Steve can almost see it happening, muscle by muscle, first with Bucky blinking as if to clear his vision, the frowning eyebrows spreading slowly, the shoulders falling back to a more natural stance.

Bucky remains uncommunicative, but it’s very clear to Steve that he doesn’t like the shower, even though he was willing to do as he was told regardless. It was the most emotion Steve has seen Bucky show so far. Even waking up with his arm missing had only elicited a momentary narrowing of his eyes. Comparative to that, Bucky was practically screaming.

Thinking for a second, Steve plugs up the bath and runs some warm water in the bottom. He only runs it a few inches deep, not wanting to submerge Bucky’s still healing wounds.

“Okay Buck, no shower, lets try this.”

With a little gentle leading, Bucky steps over the edge of the bath and stands in the water.

Steve tugs gently, “okay, sit down now, lets get you clean.” But Bucky doesn’t move. He looks down at his feet in the water momentarily, but otherwise looks straight ahead.

Steve sighs, giving one more tug, trying to guide Bucky to do what he wants, but quickly gives up since he doesn’t want to force him, “okay, okay, stay there, I’ve got an idea.”

Steve gives Bucky a flat palmed signal from the doorway for ‘stay’, and then darts to the box for an empty water bottle. Not ideal, but there’s nothing else in the bedroom or bathroom to use.

Steve talks quietly, telling Bucky what he’d doing before he does something, trying to provide a quiet commentary to his actions. Trying to comfort Bucky, or maybe even himself. It’s difficult to keep it up, and at some points asks questions, continuing on as if Bucky’s answering them. 

Steve fills the bottle by submerging it, and then starts slow, tipping the warm water over Bucky’s chest. He doesn’t seem to react negatively to this, but now that Steve’s doing something, he’s watching Steve’s movements intently. That seems okay, emboldened, Steve tips Bucky’s head back with gentle fingers to his chin. He tenses when Steve trickles water through his hair, but otherwise takes it. When Steve starts working a handful of shampoo into his scalp, he relaxes again. And then relaxes again. For the first time, Bucky’s scent levels into something resembling calm, and Steve finds himself working his fingertips into Bucky’s scalp for a lot longer than is strictly necessary. When he rinses the soapy water, it’s only a little lighter than muddy brown. Steve’s tempted for a second to wash it again, but doesn’t want to push his luck.

Dunking the flannel into the already less than sparkling water, Steve soaps it up and gives Bucky a very methodical once over. He goes carefully around the sticky pad attached to Bucky’s pectoral, and wonders if it will need to be changed at some point. 

Steve keeps talking, even now, trying not to let his voice wobble. The scarring on Bucky’s shoulder creeps across his chest, and looks like it would have been hellish to endure. It’s even worse knowing that Bucky had the serum, because that means the injury would have been even worse than it looks now, the serum working to heal and prevent scarring. Despite that, Bucky's a mess from his shoulder and down the side of his ribs. There are other little scars, marks peppered here and there, evidence of a lifetime of fighting and torture and pain.

A tear silently streaks down Steve’s cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, ducking his head for a moment, but still talking to Bucky, keeping up a one sided conversation even as his voice wobbles dangerously. 

Faint streaks of iodine that had clung to Bucky’s skin get washed away. It’s unlikely that Bucky would ever get an infection, or if he did his immune system would deal with it rapidly, the same as Steve, but he supposes non of the surgical team knew for sure who or what they were dealing with. Bucky takes all this in his stride, until Steve carefully lifts his penis. Bucky growls. It’s very quiet, a soft rumbling in his chest.

“I’ll be gentle Buck, but I want to get you clean, okay?”

The rumbling doesn’t subside, but Bucky tolerates Steve slipping the flannel across his testicles and around his penis, very conscious of the tubing emerging from the head. Bucky has no foreskin, so at least Steve is spared the trauma of trying to peel it back. Once he lets go, Bucky’s rumble stops, but he’s watching Steve very closely now.

Steve doesn’t behave any differently, “just gonna fill the bottle again, get all this soap rinsed off you...” continuing his chatter. The water is a disgusting color by the time they are done, and when Steve pulls the plug, the dirt is bad enough to leave a grey scum line in the bath. Steve desperately wants to trim and clean Bucky’s finger and toe nails, but again doesn’t want to push his luck. Later, when they’ve both had a break, he thinks.

Steve grabs a towel and dries Bucky off. To Steve surprise, Bucky’s a little helpful, turning this way and that, lifting his arm at the right time, even stepping out of the bath without prompting when Steve steps away. Lastly, Steve empties the catheter bag again, there’s not a huge amount in there this time, but the color and smell are a lot better already. Hopefully all those IV bags and the drinks Bucky’s been sipping are starting to help.

Gently trying to finger comb his hair turns out to be a no go, Steve hitting impassable tangles almost immediately and carefully withdrawing his fingers rather than pressing against them. That is definitely a problem for another day. Dumping the towel and the flannel in the basket, Steve retrieves the hoodie and sweats from the box and returns with them, holding them up to show Bucky.

“We can get you more stuff later Buck, stuff that fits, but for now-”

Bucky takes the sweats off Steve, holding them by the waist as he slips them on. He then takes the hoodie, lying it flat on the vanity so he can slip his arm inside and wriggle it over his head. The fit isn’t great, and it looks awkward as hell with one arm, Steve’s fingers itch to just help. But this is the first thing that Bucky’s taken control of and has done for himself, Steve doesn’t want to take that from him. The empty sleeve hangs at Bucky’s side.

“Ah, ideal Buck, uhm…let’s get these sheets changed.”

Bucky pads after Steve again, hair still damp enough to leave darker splotches around the neck of the hoodie, and the elastic straps on the catheter bag weren't water proof either, so there are darker grey lines faintly visible against the material of his thigh. But he’s clean, and it’ll dry, so Steve doesn’t worry. He can worry about things like that soon enough.

It’s a two minute job to strip the bed, put on a new fitted sheet and then throw a clean flat sheet over the top. Steve makes it up with a couple of fluffy blankets on top.

He potters around the room, Bucky watching him, finding things to do so he doesn’t have to leave, despite Sam’s words ringing in his head. He peels the plastic wrap off the crates of drinks, one of water, one full of different flavors of the meal drinks, and lays them side by side between the bed and the chair. Then he goes and gives the inside of the bath a cursory wipe and rise, getting rid of the lingering dirt. He puts the neat row of empty bottles into the trash.

Steve goes back to fiddling with the blankets, tries to be stronger about the whole thing.

“Okay...I should go, for a few hours. I’ll be back okay, but I need to shower myself...and sleep. And you should rest. More.” Steve tries to smile, but he knows it looks sad.

He retreats, somehow finding the strength to leave Bucky standing in the middle of the room. 

Alone.

Steve is roused again by Jarvis’ gentle chiming, “okay Jarvis, I’m up, I’m up.”

“Very good Captain, Sir would like you to know that he intends to start a video call with Dr. Helen Cho within the next thirty minutes. Would you like to be present?”

“Yes, Jarvis, where is Tony?”

“Sir and Dr. Banner are already in the lab, I will inform them that you will be joining them. Mr. Wilson also asks if you could contact him upon waking.”

“Are you able to put me through now?” Steve hauls himself upright, scratching at his unruly hair, and slides out of bed.

“Hey Steve, you get some sleep?”

“Yes, and I showered, and I ate.”

“Look at you, all self care and shit. Congrats man.” Sam’s tone is colored with laughter.

Steve reapplies his scent blockers before he grumpily pulls on a clean pair of jeans and goes digging for a hoodie, “yeah yeah. You want to come and sit in for the brain doctor?”

“Sure thing if you want me there Steve, your boys napping like a baby, and it looks like he’s gotten through a few bottles of supplements, so I think he’s doing okay.”

A tension Steve didn’t even realize he’d woken up with drains back out of him, “thank you so much Sam.”

“No worries, see you in a few,” the connection cuts with a gentle chime. Steve makes himself a coffee in a re usable to go mug before he heads down to the lab, not willing to drink the sludge that Tony brews. 

Dr. Helen Cho turns out to be a very softly spoken woman. She has dark hair and thoughtful eyes, and Steve likes her almost immediately. She introduces herself to the room, listing her qualifications for Steve and Sam’s benefit. She apologies for not being present in person, which Tony brushes off. Steve also takes the opportunity to thank her for her time, and when she smiles kindly, her dark eyes crinkle at the corners.

“It is my pleasure,” her English is impeccable, but still heavily laced with her Korean accent, “I understand you have a very interesting case. I’ve reviewed everything you’ve sent, Dr. Banner-”

“Bruce, please.”

Her eyes flick downward for a moment, and if Steve didn’t know any better, he’d call it shy, he can’t help but look to Bruce, who’s smiling at the floor himself, pleased.

“Bruce,” she continues, “and you were correct in your assessment. The repeated ‘wipes’ have done extensive damage. However they were highly controlled and directed, they knew what they were doing. Some pathways look to be seriously damaged, whilst others have been very deliberately preserved. I would say they were keeping some skills, whilst eliminating unwanted memories.”

That makes sense to Steve, “he didn’t know how to drink, or wash himself, but he got dressed fine.”

She nods, “I am not a psychologist in any sense of the word, but from what you’ve shown me, they were doing their best to dehumanize him, make him completely dependent on them, for everything, nutrition, even urination, whilst keeping in tact the skills they were utilizing. I suspect you will need to involve a different type of expert as his recovery progresses.”

“You think he will?” Steve can’t help himself, “recover?”

“The human brain is an incredible thing, and supported by the healing power of the serum,” she shrugs, “but it is impossible to tell. Send me another scan in a few days to compare, and I might have a better answer for you. Being off the drugs will help his natural equilibrium re assert itself. I assume he is being monitored?” 

Tony gives a curt nod, “twenty four seven Doc.”

“Good, the dosage of Sodium Valproate was almost ten times the maximum recommended dose, and the Trihexyphenidyl was almost as bad.” She leans forward a little, clearly consulting something, “Procyclidine and Olanzapine, plus other drugs to combat the sedative effects of the anti-psychotics-”

“Sorry doc,” Steve cuts in, “is there anything we should be worried about, I don’t know what any of those things do?”

“My apologies Captain, Sodium Valproate stabilizes excess electrical signals in the brain, so it’s used as a mood stabilizer, but also to treat epilepsy, it can have some nasty side effects at higher doses. That shouldn’t be a concern now though. Triheyphenidyl is used to treat Parkinsonian symptoms, which could mean anything from an imbalance in the brain to literal tremors. Olanzapine is usually used as an anti-psychotic and Procyclidine is used to treat side effects caused by other medications. And that’s just the things present in large doses, it’s quite the mixture, there’s too much in there to be able to completely pick it apart. Just monitor him, keep a log for me, even the smallest things might be significant. A fit can look like nothing, an absence, just staring into space for a few minutes, it’s not necessarily the full blown shaking you might usually think of. Even subtle things could potentially be important, and anything could happen whilst damage like this is healing. Hallucinations, memory lapses and confusion are all going to be likely, but I'd be most concerned about seizures.”

“Okay Doc,” Tony chimes in, “Jarvis will take all that into consideration with monitoring him, we’re monitoring vitals too, as long as he doesn’t pull off the reader. Even if he does, Jarvis can keep tabs on some of it from a distance.”

Sam speaks up for the first time, “when we got him, he was trying to kill us, but now he’s woken up pretty chill, has coming off the meds...helped?”

“It may very well have, particularly coupled with a change in circumstances, and especially if he was unconscious for a period of time-”

Steve gasps, realizing, “the Widows bites.” He turns to Tony, “Nat got him with both, straight on the back of his head.”

Tony explains to Dr. Cho, “errr…that’d be two hits of about thirty thousand volts a piece.”

Dr. Cho’s lips narrow for a moment, “that would certainly do something.”

“Huh...soft reset, maybe?” Tony looks thoughtful for a moment, “Right Doc,” Tony continues, “any advice for now?”

She seems to think for a moment, “we may be bordering into another field of expertise Dr. Stark, and all my advice is generic, but...he’s been through a traumatic event, and he needs time to heal, both physically and mentally. Give him what he needs to do that, wholesome nutritionally valuable foods, a reliable routine in a space he can become familiar with and feel safe in, gentle stimulation and activity if he’s open to it, friendly faces to reinforce positive improvements. Time.” She laughs, “let him sleep as much as he wants, no matter when or where. Sleep is a great healer.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the number of chapters has gone up - this is getting away from me a little bit. Sorry.
> 
> TW - More medical stuff - if you're squeamish about catheters this might not be your thing  
> Usual historical Hydra torturing The Winter Soldier and descriptions of violence in reports of Winter Soldier missions, nothing 'on screen'

“You need to what?”

“Change his catheter, temporarily, before we remove it altogether. You have to remember that the bladder is a muscle, and because at the moment, it’s just essentially being held open so it can constantly drain. The muscle atrophies and-”

“Okay. Okay.” Steve is so done. He’s over a thousand percent done with today, and it’s only lunch time.

“But if he isn’t able to empty the new one, he will need regular assistance. I’ll provide you with a few samples of incontinence products and it’ll give you an idea of the sort of thing available, ready for when this catheter comes out,” the very peppy, very blonde nurse, digs into some supplies in a nearby cart. 

She tries to hand the package to Steve, but thank everything in the universe for Sam Wilson, because he intercepts it, “I’ll sort this, Steve.”

Not enough edible arrangements in the whole damn universe, “thank you Sam.” Steve fills with those three words with as much feeling as he can, “I owe you, many many times over.”

“Uh hu, just remember that when you’re appearing at kids birthday parties. Uncle Sam is going to be the absolute best,” Sam grins at him. 

Peppy nurse will not be deterred, “I’m ready whenever, the sooner we take it out, the sooner he will bounce back.”

Apparently, very peppy “please, call me Steph,” is also fucking fearless. A trait Steve never would have predicted. But then, there must be a reason she’s permanently employed at Stark Tower.

She takes Bucky in her stride, which Steve is incredibly impressed with, because as soon as she moves to touch the catheter tubing, Bucky starts growling. 

She pointedly ignores it.

She works quickly, explains to Bucky what she’s doing in clear simple terms even though he doesn’t speak, or show any indication that he’s even heard, and does everything she can to preserve his dignity. Her fingers are so deft, Steve can’t track what she’s doing most of the time, and she’s the pinnacle of professionalism throughout, clearing her stuff away and being on her way in no time at all.

Bucky had gotten into position with a little gentle nudging from Steve, not putting up any resistance when Steve had pulled his sweats down carefully and put the disposable blue paper sheet over his lap. On advice from the unflappable Steph, he also lay on a towel to catch any drips.

Now, rather than the bag arrangement, Just the valve part that Steve was familiar with from the bag is just there...hanging out the bottom of Bucky’s dick.

Steph had prattled on about the bladder filling and emptying it again being good for clearing sediment and Steve had done his best, but having to remember to take his mate to the toilet wasn’t a thing that he’d ever considered being in the realms of possibility.

Apparently this type of catheter is what Steph had removed during the surgery. Steve hadn’t noticed her, but then everyone was wearing caps and masks and gowns. 

Jarvis tells Steve that sometimes, when he’s not there, Bucky paces the perimeter of the small room. Wanders into the bathroom and back out, but then returns to the bed. He hasn’t yet sat in the armchair, but he is napping and helping himself to drinks randomly. When Steve’s there, he sits on the bed, but does easily move with Steve’s gentle nudging.

Steve tells Bucky, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to help with the toilet thing, and a wash, okay? I’ll bring more clothes, but I’ve got to go and see Tony.”

Steve desperately wants to touch him, to show affection, to kiss him, anything. Touching Bucky like that right now seems so wrong though, it’d be like doing it without his consent. Steve keeps his hands to himself, but does give Bucky a little wave as he leaves.

“No.”

“I...what?”

Tony finally looks up from whatever it is he’s working on, flipping some goggles up out of the way, “pretty simple Cap, I said no.”

There’s a full fifteen second staring match before Steve caves in.

“We can’t keep him in that little room forever Tony, it’s a nice prison cell, but that’s all it is and I want-”

“You want?” Tony raises an eyebrow, “what about what I want? Because what I want, Cap, is for Pepper to be safe. For the people who work here to be safe. For you to be safe. Not to have Hydra’s murder bot wandering around my tower.”

“I’ll...he’ll stay in my apartment.”

“So you want to keep him in a bigger prison? Where he will have the opportunity to murder you in your sleep?”

“Tony, come on, he hasn’t shown any signs of being at all hostile, I’ve fallen asleep a couple of times-.”

“You fell asleep in a room that can neutralize The Hulk in under four seconds. And not hostile? If we’re ignoring that time he shot Fury, or that time he nearly snapped Nat in half, oh how about before that? What he actually shot Nat? or I don’t know, that time-”

“Okay, okay Tony, I get it. I get it but...Tony come on, he’s my mate. I’ll take him and leave if that-”

Tony scoffs. Loudly. “You need us Steve. Not just me. You need help, and he needs regular access to the medical help that I’m providing.” Tony sighs, looking at the floor for a second. Then he pulls the goggles off his head and ruffles his hair, looking frustrated. “This really what you want, Steve?” Tony’s voice is quieter now, and Steve can’t help but notice he’s finally using his name, and not ‘Cap’.

“I just...I just want him home.”

Tony lets out a long exhale, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘soft for damn Omegas’, “okay. Okay.” Steve opens his mouth, excited now and ready to thank Tony, but he cut’s him off, “not your apartment. I’ll need to make something more secure.”

“Yes! Thank you that’s-”

“And it’ll be totally secure, okay, no one in or out unless it’s okayed?”

“Yes, Tony absolutely-”

“And it’ll be murder proof, you’ll be eating with plastic sporks.”

“Yep. Whatever you think is best.”

Tony points, “Jarvis will be monitoring the shit out of him, if he so much as sneezes-”

“Yes! Tony! Whatever you think!”

On his way back to Bucky, Steve hears his little inner Sam mumble something about food and self care, and decides to go via the food court. It’ll only add a couple of minutes to his journey, and he can grab some ready made sandwiches to eat on the way down. He’s in the queue for less than a minute when when he turns, hearing Peppers voice.

“Hey, Steve,” she greets him with her usual kind smile, “I hear you have a new place to decorate?” She’s already pulling her Starkpad out from somewhere, “I’ve put together a couple of ideas, what do you think?”

“I-errr...thank you, Pepper.” Steve hadn’t even thought about this, and here is Pepper, giving him help he didn’t even know he needed. Tony had literally made this decision ten minutes ago...either Pepper moves fast, or Tony already had the secure apartment plan on the back burner before Steve even asked about it. The second he thinks it, Steve knows he's right. Tony would have known that moving Bucky on to somewhere else was inevitable. And he's already planning for it. Tony is...he's a good Alpha. Tony's a good Alpha. Tony's mate is standing in front of him, Steve's own mate is downstairs. That's okay, Steve reminds himself, he can think that Tony's a good Alpha, he's just stating a fact. It doesn't mean anything. 

Pepper smiles, oblivious of Steve's internal monologue, “no problems, you know I love this sort of thing. Don’t tell Tony,” she leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “but projects like this are how I get my nesting fix.”

Steve shuffles along a few more steps with the moving queue, huffing, “unless putting up a tent during a war counts, I wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

She offers him a sympathetic smile, and he knows his joke kind of fell flat. She draws his attention back to the screen, there’s lots of soft looking textures, furniture that looks almost bulbous it’s so padded and over sized. Forrest greens and clear clean blues, colors that manage to feel both natural and warm. Calm. Patterns are conspicuous in that there aren't any, so nothing at all confusing for the eye. No lines are disturbed, and there’s no single thing that draws the attention over anything else.

The colors appeal deeply to Steve’s inner artist, “Pepper, all of this looks perfect. Thank you so much again, I really...”

She waves him away, moving again smoothly with the line, Steve indicates she should go first, and Pepper orders a skinny latte to go. Steve puts in an order for four sandwiches and the biggest ice coffee they can make. Suddenly thinking about bathing Bucky, he asks for another large, empty clear plastic cup. The barista hands it over with a shrug. 

“So I’ll get this arranged?”

“I’ll leave it in your obviously capable hands, again Pepper, really I can’t say thanks enough.”

“Don’t Steve, really, we have to stick together, right?” He honestly doesn’t know if she means as friends, as affiliates of the Avengers, or as Omegas, but he’ll take it.

“Right.”

She takes her drink, smiling, “I’ll keep you informed Steve, I know how Tony can get. I’ve had some clothes delivered, they should be in the observation room.”

Steve could kick himself, he’d specifically said to Bucky he’d bring a change of clothes and the forgotten all about it. Again. Steve is overwhelmed with gratitude, there aren't thanks enough, all of his friends helping in their own ways. Especially since Steve doesn’t seem to be doing great on his own right now.

She turns to walk away, her long, sleek ponytail swinging into view...Steve grabs his take away bag and drink.

“Pepper! One more thing!”

Steve was vaguely aware that there was a commissary in the tower, but having everything delivered or going out of the tower to get things for himself, he’d never been to it. It’s not huge, but it’s large enough to stock most essentials, designed for employees and residence who need something on short notice. Right now, Steve is standing next to Pepper in the small toiletries isle while she hums at what’s available. He spots a nail care kit and snags it while he’s waiting.

“I’ll order you more specialist bits Steve, but take this and this for now.”

She hands him a bottle, and a packaged brush that has no handle, it will sit curved into the palm of his hand. 

“Is it very badly tangled?”

“Yeah, very knotty,” a sturdy looking wide toothed comb joins the items. And then a package of hair ties. 

“Hopefully you don’t have to cut it. I’d really cover it in the conditioner, don’t worry about getting it wet first, just use plenty, and work it through his hair. Then carefully brush it through, start from the bottom,” she shrugs, “might take a bit of perseverance, if he’ll let you.”

“Thank you so much again, I really have no idea what I’m doing with this sort of stuff.”

“You’ll figure it out, I have every faith.”

Bucky, as with most other things, has been completely pliant when Steve had nudged him to stand in front of the toilet. He’d growled low all the way through Steve pulling him gently out of his sweats and opening the valve on the catheter tube, but the second the urine had started flowing, he’d stopped rumbling and sighed instead. Steve feels crushing guilt. Again. He’d obviously left it too long, especially with how much Bucky has been drinking. 

He presses his forehead between Bucky’s shoulder blades, hand reaching around his hip to hold the tubing, and vows to do better. Once Bucky’s all carefully done up and put away, Steve washes his hands before leading Bucky back out. He automatically takes up his place on the bed, and Steve, rather than disturb him and make him move, elects to kneel behind him.

Unpacking the comb and brush, and laying them out, he dollops a big handful of conditioner in his palm and starts to saturate Bucky’s hair with it. It takes time to work it into the tangles, and Steve ends up slathering the whole bottle onto Bucky’s head. Using the brush, he carefully tries to separate one lank snarl at a time, and carefully works from the bottom up. He holds tight above where he’s working, not wanting any tugs to be felt further up. Bucky seems oblivious to his progress, and if Steve does accidentally tug, Bucky doesn’t react to it. Steve has to occasionally use the comb, using a singular tooth to unpick, what feels like, individual hairs. 

It’s a slow process, but Steve perseveres, completely looses himself in it, having a legitimate reason for touching Bucky. The conditioner doesn’t smell of much, which Steve is glad of, and after nearly two hours of cautious work, Steve can run his fingers comfortably through Bucky’s claggy hair. He spends a few minutes running the wide tooth comb through it, before finally admitting he’s dragging this out now. Bucky’s hair is surprisingly long now that the nest has been untangled, falling just past his shoulders. Steve doesn't really want to move. Having the warm, solid heat of his mate between his spread knees. Being close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. Steve has to close his eyes and take a deep breath to steady himself, trying not to let the tears fall. 

Steve decides to let the product sit a little longer, and retrieves the nail kit from the armchair. Again Bucky is completely docile and pliant, letting Steve do as he likes, moving easily with Steve’s gentle nudges as Steve trims first his finger and then toe nails. The smallest nail on Bucky’s left foot had clearly been ignored or missed at some point, because it had grown so long it was curling under and growing a little into Bucky’s flesh. It bleeds a few drops when Steve carefully trims it away. Bucky doesn’t even flinch. Steve works his way backwards and cleans all the dirt out from under Bucky’s newly trimmed nails.

Sitting back on his haunches to look up at Buckys features, Steve tries to decide if they’re carefully schooled into blankness, or if the empty expression is a genuine one. Dr. Cho’s words come back to him, about eliminating parts of Bucky whilst maintaining what his handlers wanted. Perhaps he was trained to this, this pliancy is something they wanted until he was given orders. 

The thought makes Steve’s guts churn. 

Steve runs a few inches of hot water in the bottom of the bath, and when he turns to go get Bucky, he finds him already standing in the doorway, pulling his sweater off.

“In the basket, Buck,” Steve says, not really thinking about it, but Bucky does as he’s told, and the sweats join the rest in the basket. This is probably the only place in the whole tower that doesn’t have a laundry chute, simply because it would give The Hulk an opening to grip the edge of a wall.

The baskets getting full, and Steve notes that he will have to take it out and get it all laundered. He thinks about taking it all to his room and dumping it on his bed. He can’t do that, no matter how tempting it is.

Bucky apparently still grasps things quick enough, despite showing no outward signs at all, because he also steps into the bath without Steve’s prompting, and waits there while Steve retrieves his Venti coffee cup. Scooping the water and getting a good pour makes it so much easier this time, and between rinsing Bucky’s hair out and having trimmed his nails, Steve finally feels like Bucky is properly clean.

As the last thing, whilst still standing in the bath, Steve gently says “open your mouth Buck,” and opens his mouth wide to demonstrate, holding up the toothbrush. When Bucky cautiously opens his mouth, frowning, Steve tries a gentle thumb on his jaw. Steve goes in with the toothbrush, and Bucky immediately, aggressively, bites down.

“Buck, it’s okay, I just want to brush your teeth. Open for me, it’s fine,” Steve rubs gently on Bucky’s jaw, first feeling the muscles relax and then his mouth open enough to release the toothbrush. Steve brushes gently for about ten seconds before Bucky locks his teeth again. Steve repeats the process, Bucky becoming a little better with the intrusion each time.

Steve doesn’t even bother trying to get Bucky to rinse, just watching as he works his mouth, frowning a little, Steve shaking his head and trying not to laugh. “That’s gotta feel real strange if you’re not used to it, huh Buck?”

Bucky steps out of the bath, lifting his arm to be dried. And just like that, brushing teeth has been worked into their routine.

Steve dries Bucky, carefully patting his hair dry before combing it out and tying it loosely at the back of Bucky’s neck. Steve might have to learn to do something better than that at some point. Steve brings two heavy duty card carrier bags into the bathroom, pulling out a nondescript pair of grey boxer briefs from their packaging and handing them over. Bucky slips them on, balancing on one leg and then the other. He digs through the bags, and can’t help but think that the world does not deserve Pepper Potts and her attention to detail. Not a single item in either bag is black. 

There are three pairs of sweatpants, all in a light heather grey, and Steve pulls out a pair and hands it over. In the other bag there are three identical Henleys in three different colors, and Steve pulls out the pale blue one that sits on top. Everything fits perfectly. All the socks are in varying shades of blue, some normal trainer socks, and two pairs that are very fluffy with grippy rubber dots on the bottoms. Steve snorts at the sight of them, and on impulse, unpacks both. Turning to Bucky he holds both types out, one pair in each hand.

Bucky stares at them, then looks at Steve’s face, “go on Bucky, choose the ones you want.” Steve lifts them a little closer as he speaks, backing up words with movements. Bucky, cautiously, watches Steve’s face as he ever so slowly reaches forward. Still keeping his eyes on Steve, Bucky touches the regular socks before touching the fluffy ones. His fingers tighten on the fluffy ones, and Steve presses them towards him. Bucky takes them, still staring at Steve’s face. Once he has them securely in his hand however, he slips out of the bathroom and scurries over to the bed, eager to sit down a slip them on. Steve stares at Bucky as he wriggles his toes inside the socks. 

It’s a contender for the best thing Steve’s ever seen. 

At a loss for something to do, Steve changes the sheets on the bed again, planning to at least leave these ones on for more than 24 hours now that Bucky’s smelling fresh. 

And of Bucky. 

After being washed twice, having plenty to drink, and rest, Bucky is now smelling...well. He smells amazing. He smells like Bucky. Steve desperately wants to stick his face in it.

Pulling his laptop out of the box, Steve settles himself with a bottle of water on the other side of the bed to where Bucky usually sits. Bucky doesn’t have any qualms lying next to him, and actually turns so that he’s facing Steve.

Steve messes around on the lap top for a little while, mostly trying to keep his thoughts together long enough to actually play a game of solitaire. It’s easy to believe that Bucky’s fine, that this is a normal domestic moment. That everything's going to be fine. Steve watches Bucky, pretty much in between every mouse click, and notices his eyes dropping and then snapping open, dropping and snapping open. Like Bucky’s exhausted and trying to fight it off. Steve thinks about Dr. Cho’s words, about Bucky sleeping. He also thinks about the cocktail of stimulants that had been listed in his blood work. Obviously they'd been keeping the soldier awake and very alert, Bucky asleep would have done them no good. But between missions and cryo, Steve wonders when Bucky’s last natural, real sleep was. 

Bucky is finally dragged into sleep, unable to fight it any longer, and Steve braces himself, pushed by the scent of his mate and the sound of his soft snoring. He opens the files on The Winter Soldier. He finds his answer. Bucky hasn’t slept, not a natural sleep cycle. Not since he was first put into cryo. Not since his first mission. 

Steve doesn’t read much, skimming through the files. As far as he can tell, Bucky was dragged out of cryo, hosed down in freezing-

The shower. Well that suddenly makes a lot more sense. 

Then he receives ‘maintenance’. Then a mostly a standard set of drugs, and some work on the arm. The drips in the arm are refilled at this point. 

Bucky was given orders. Always very specific, absolutely no room for interpretation. He’d be transported to site, then let loose. His leash was an incredibly short one, with no leeway on mission parameters. The instructions are very, very specific on this point. There were no choices, no options. He carried out the mission as prescribed with equipment provided. Sometimes he’d have the backing of a team, but his handlers in the field were never, ever far away, and were always in contact.

Any deviation would result in punishment. The plastic device in Bucky’s abdomen was a monitoring device, but was also rigged to deliver a very unpleasant shock should Bucky put a toe out of line. It’s purpose to remind him of who as in charge. To remind him that further punishments were available. 

If that gentle reminder didn’t work, a chemical released remotely from the feeder in the arm would incapacitate Bucky for around thirty seconds until it’s metabolized. Thirty seconds of feeling like every nerve in his body is burning. 

As a final fail safe, one of his back teeth had been replaced with an explosive. They were skeptical as to weather it would kill him, more likely he would loose an eye and half his face. Either way, he would certainly be incapacitated. All of this is laid out in black and white, on a Hydra ‘risk assessment’ document.

Steve has to keep stopping, breathing deep to get past the feeling that he’s going to be sick. 

Steve manages to look at reports from two actual missions before he can’t look any more. They used him like a trained animal. Sent him in to take out high value targets. He even had instructions how to make the scene look. Of the two Steve managed to look at, one was made to look like a suicide, Bucky scaling the outside wall of a redacted Embassy and slipping in and out. The second, he went through the front door and brutally dealt with the twelve man security team that was on site, before crushing the targets skull with his hands. Clearly, that mission was to send a message.

When Steve searches for that event on the internet, typing the year from the mission report, he finds absolutely nothing. He’s not surprised.

He goes back to playing solitaire and watching his mate rest. Two hours later, Bucky wakes, slides out of bed, and walks the perimeter of the room. He goes into the bathroom, comes back out, and then stands next to Steve.

“Alright Buck?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, of course he doesn’t, but he does walk into the bathroom, then comes back to stand next to Steve again. This time, Steve gets up and follows. Bucky patiently stations himself in front of the toilet. And Steve goes through the motions of getting Bucky out of his sweats and flipping the valve. Bucky doesn’t growl at all this time, and Steve is thrilled Bucky initiated this.

If this and sock choice is what he’s getting today as signs of Bucky’s autonomy, Steve’ll take it. He’ll take anything at this point. Bucky drinks four of the meal drinks, lining up the empty bottles carefully on the floor, before rolling back into bed.

There’s Jarvis’ gentle chime, and a little message pops up on the screen. Sam’s here.

“That’s great Steve!”

“It feels silly to get excited over it, it’s just socks.”

“Nah, don’t do that. Don’t downplay it. Your guy just openly chose something for himself, probably for the first time since the second world war. Steve, that’s big. He’s trusting you, keep building on it. Keep giving him choices where you can.”

“Yeah, thanks Sam.”

“And it isn’t just socks you know. This” he nudges a fresh crate of drinks on the floor, “is just the green ones. Jarvis says he’s been going for these ones first. He really doesn’t like the purple ones. He ignores them if he can, drinks less if that’s all that’s available. He definitely has preferences.”

“That’s gotta mean something though, right? That there’s a person in there? That he’s in there?”

“Honestly, I don’t know Steve...but you gotta admit it’s a good sign.”

“Yeah.” Steve knows his smile is tried and watery, but he does his best. “Yeah Sam, a good sign.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW notes at the end of the chapter

The next couple of days are much the same. Steve does Bucky’s laundry. Empties Bucky’s catheter whenever Bucky indicates he needs the bathroom. Keeps up a supply of green drinks, and now that Bucky seems to have realized that they’re all green and being regularly restocked, he’s been doing a decent job of demolishing them. Bucky is happy to stand in the bath and be washed by Steve every day.

After the socks, Steve lays all the clothes out on the bed after every ‘bath’ and lets Bucky choose for himself, which he does. He very much favors the fluffy socks.

Steve puts his laptop on the bed, and following an online video, learns how to do a simple French braid. It’s wonky, some pieces noticeably thicker than others, and Bucky already has some loose wisps around his face from where stray hairs have escaped or been missed completely. Bucky sits pliantly through the whole process. 

Steve chatters about nothing.

There’s something uncurling inside of Steve, the more he does this. He’s a male Omega, he’ll never have a pup, but still, the act of caring for someone like this. Meeting the basic needs of another person, one who is dependent on him, is...fulfilling. Steve had been concerned in those first 48 hours that there may become a point that he’d think of Bucky differently because he’d had to care for him. That hasn’t happened. Or at least, hasn’t happened yet. And all Steve can think is that his natural Omega instincts finally, finally have a use. 

Steve leaves him for around an hour at a time. Finding food, showering and changing, seeing to other necessities before he returns to Bucky. He even caved in on that first night with the new catheter, telling himself as he curled up on Bucky’s bed that he was sleeping here in case Bucky needed him in the night. If Bucky minded Steve sleeping next to him, he didn't show it. Steve made a concerted effort not to be too obviously weird when he was sniffing the blankets.

Bucky woke him twice in the night. Once without meaning too, he was just up, walking the perimeter of the room before sliding back onto the bed. Steve, sleeping very lightly, was aware of Bucky’s movements. The second time Bucky was just standing next to the bed, waiting. Steve took him to the toilet. That routine has held. Steve has developed incredible respect for Bucky’s internal clock. Steve had thought that his perimeter checks were random, but after discussing it with Jarvis, he’d seen the pattern. Accurate more or less to the nearest quarter an hour.

Steve is still heavily reapplying scent blockers every day without fail. Using probably more of the stuff than he ever has before. He desperately wants to just wash it off and leave it, but the risk that Bucky won’t recognize Steve’s scent is too great. Steve particularly doesn’t want to jeopardize whatever trust he’s building with Bucky by changing something so drastic about himself.

The thought of Bucky scenting him and still not recognizing him would be too big of a rejection to bare.

Steve eyes the plastic packaging in the corner. He’d brought it in himself, courtesy of one Sam Wilson. They look like nappies, but for adults. They are the pull up variety, and Sam said he went for them because they will just straight up be the easiest to deal with. At least Sam has some good news, the new apartment is at the Pepper Potts decorating phase. Apparently the decorating will be done by the end of today, and then it should only be another day before all the furniture is delivered and arranged into it’s Pepper planned place. 

It’s a light at the end of the tunnel. As unbothered as Bucky seems by the proceedings, Steve’s had enough of staring at the same walls. He also has a lot of pent up energy. He really should go for an hour and make use of the gym but...he’s just not ready to leave Bucky for something unessential just yet. 

Steve was thinking about disappearing for lunch, but was hesitant to leave. Bucky had, over the past couple of hours, become steadily more restless. This was new, and the more it ramped up, the less Steve wanted to leave.

Steve knew Bucky had an appointment with Steph later his afternoon, and although he’d told Bucky about it, he had no idea if Bucky had taken that in or not. Up until now he’d taken everything that’d happened in his stride. This unsettled prowling was new. 

Steve had taken Bucky to the toilet right at the beginning of the restlessness, so he knows it’s not that, no matter how often Bucky stands next to him before wandering back off into the bathroom. Steve had followed him a couple of times, but they'd ended up just standing in the bathroom together, “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what you want.”

Steve settles back onto the bed, and this goes on for another twenty minutes. Which turns out to be a long time when you’re watching your mate get steadily more restless. He doesn’t smell distressed though, so whatever it is, he’s just getting...huffy about it.

Bucky heads into the bathroom, again, and this time, Steve hears something different. The quiet slap and creak as Bucky gets into the bath.

Steve follows him, only to find Bucky standing in the bath, but still fully clothed. It clicks. For the last three days, Steve’s been helping Bucky have a wash in the mornings. Bucky’s restlessness had started ramping up the nearer it got to Steve leaving for lunch. “You want a bath now Buck? I was gonna do it this afternoon, after Steph’s been, but we can do it now?”

Bucky gets out of the bath, and as Steve leans over to set the water running, he can hear Bucky stripping off behind him. The clothes go in the hamper. By always getting Bucky fresh for the day in the morning, Steve had unwittingly created a routine. “Okay Buck, Dr. Cho did say regular routine might be important. I didn't realize, that’s my bad, but I’ll try and think about it more, now I know, okay?”

They move through Bucky getting washed up, the tooth brushing stage now much better, Bucky having learnt not to react by biting, even if it did take a couple of attempts. 

Oh a whim, Steve hands Bucky the towel, and other than his hair and his back, which Steve takes over again for, Bucky does a passable one handed job. He picks out his clothes and gets dressed while Steve changes the sheets. It’s only been a couple of days, but it’s for something to do as much an anything.

Whilst he’s mid straightening the top sheet, Bucky comes and stands next to him. He holds out his hand, palm up, resting on it is a hair tie. Steve could cry. Every time Bucky does something like this, it reminds Steve that there’s something healing, no matter how slowly, inside his mate. 

“I’ll plait it for you later, if you want to,” Steve talks as he ties Bucky’s hair back gently, “I’m going to go and grab a quick lunch before Steph gets here.”

Bucky gets himself a drink, sitting on the edge of the bed, he twists the cap off deftly with one hand. Steve watches for a moment, before slipping out to get lunch.

Steph, as always, has a bouncing blonde pony tail and a big smile. She’s wearing sunshine yellow scrubs and white sneakers and she’s almost too much for Steve to look at. 

“So you’ve got something to wear for after I take this one out,” Steve’s mouth opens to answer, but she’s not talking to Steve, she’s talking to Bucky. Bucky is growling. Steph doesn’t seem to care, “now, as you relearn how this feels, it’s totally normal to have leakage or accidents.” 

Steve, some how, keeps his full face flinch internal.

Steph, as always, works quickly and efficiently, wrapping up the used equipment and disposing of it. “Dr. Stark has had me in touch with a nutritionist,” Steve starts, realizing Steph's focus has changed, “I’ve compiled a plan and forwarded it to your email address, Captain.”

And just like that, the bouncing pony tail disappears out through the door. Steve, not for the first time, thinks he could have done with Steph during the war. He probably could have sent her in alone to have a stern word with Hitler. Might have worked. 

If the minute tightness around Bucky’s eyes is anything to go by, he does not like the pull up nappy things. Steve had thrown his boxers in the hamper, not going to bother with them, but Bucky retrieves a fresh pair and wears them over the top.

When he gets back on the bed, for the first time, he turns his back on Steve. Considering Bucky’s behavior, it feels very deliberate. Compared to how passive he’s been up until this point, Steve is thrilled that this may be a show of Bucky’s displeasure.

Steve reads over the attachments in the email. At no point does Steph suggest removing the meal drinks, but she does explain alternatives that she can stock.  
Steve reads over the plan Steph’s put together for reintroducing food. Step one includes clear broths and fresh fruit juice diluted with water, then soups and smoothies, followed by whole foods that can be just eaten, followed cautiously by more complex starches and cooked protein. Eggs make a regular appearance throughout.

Steve views it for what it is, a very thoughtful and well put together battle plan. Steph stresses heavily that there is no time frame, and moving onto another phase of the plan is totally dependent on the success of the step before. There’s outlines for portion sizes, calorie indicators for super soldier metabolism relative to activity, suggestions on how often to make certain categories of food available. There’s instructions for staggered introduction of new foods. The charts are very clearly color coded.

Bucky's been looking okay, and he's drinking plenty, but he's still clearly pale and underweight. 

The final attachment is the delivery menu for the tower. Steve’s familiar with it, considering he orders from it regularly, but as he looks, he realizes it’s completely different. The contact details and logo of the Stark Tower Eatery are still exactly the same at the top, but the rest is different. Steve’s never actually had to use the contact details, considering he has Jarvis, but the regular staff at the tower do if they want to pre-order meals. Neatly typed notes have been added to each item. Color coded notes, and little numbers. Steve refers back to the color coded battle plan, and realizes Steph has indicated where every item falls within the plan. 

Apparently Steph has already got the kitchen on side, because everything on the battle plan is now available for delivery. Bucky, literally, has his own menu. 

Whatever Tony is paying this woman, it isn’t enough.

As it turns out, the potential incontinence was not the issue Steve had built it up to be in his head. Bucky has developed this thing that Steve is mentally referring to as the Expectant Loom. As in when Bucky stands next to him, he sort of looms. And he only does it because he’s expecting Steve to do something for him.

That first time in the bathroom, Steve decided to take the bull by the horns and deal with this now. He stands behind Bucky, hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder, and guides Bucky’s own hand to pull down his sweats, first one side, then the other. With his hand cupping the back of Bucky’s, they take out his penis. 

They stand there for long enough that Steve starts to think this isn’t actually what Bucky wanted. Can slowly feel tension forming in his shoulders. The way Bucky is tensing his core muscles. And then, finally, with a little growl and a hiss, Bucky urinates. Steve withdraws his hand gently, and moves so that his face is against Bucky’s back, not looking. 

Bucky puts himself away. When he tries to leave the bathroom, Steve hooks him back, and Steve washes his hands with Bucky’s single hand cradled between them. 

It takes several attempts, and two wet pull ups, before Bucky starts going to the bathroom completely without Steve, but he gets there quickly, just like with the drinks.

Steve doesn’t even need to go to the old apartment to get his things, everything deemed ‘murder proof’ has already been moved for him. The apartment’s a lot smaller. One big room, with two doorways leading off it. The big room is kitchen along one wall, with a counter come breakfast bar separating it from the rest of the room. The divide also defined with a change of flooring, the living space being carpeted, where as the kitchen is large, warm, terracotta tiles. There’s the deepest looking sofa Steve’s ever seen, and he’s already thinking that he and Bucky could comfortably cuddle up on it. The two doors are two separate bedrooms, both with walk in wardrobes and their own en suites. One has a bath with a shower over it, the other is a wet room with a large shower head hanging from the ceiling.

Steve realizes Pepper’s been talking at him, and he zones back in.

“…so as long as you’re happy with all of that, Tony’s happy with security. We can bring Bucky up tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Steve frowns a little.

Pepper smiles, “sorry Steve, I couldn’t get him to move on logistics, and there are far less staff in the building on a Sunday morning.”

“I really don’t think anything will happen...”

“I know, and I’m sure it won’t, but Tony’s...concerned. Better to let him just have this?”

Steve understands what Pepper’s saying. Sometimes you have to pick your battles with an Alpha. Especially if they’re in full protective mode, an Alpha’s hind brain cannot be reasoned with. And if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to pick that fight. Captain America spent most of a war having to tell Alpha Generals where to, with all due respect, shove it. But this is different. Tony cares about Steve’s well being. About Pepper’s. And realistically, his threat assessment of Bucky isn’t wrong. Tony’s just being a good Alpha. He’s protecting Steve. Tony’s being very competent. Tony is...Pepper’s. Peppers mate. And they’re talking about Bucky. Steve’s mate. Steve has got to keep this straight in his head.

Tony’s done so much for them already, Steve can let him have this. Steve can wait until tomorrow.

“Yeah, okay Pepper. Thank you.”

One more night in that room doesn’t turn out to be bad at all. If anything, it’s nice. Steve thought it would drag, itching as he was to get Bucky out of that tiny room, but when it actually came to it, it was easy to accept knowing they’d be going first thing in the morning. 

Steve fusses a little, packing the few items Bucky had acquired back into the heavy duty carrier bags. Bucky sits patiently while Steve works on his French braid skills.

Steve sets his laptop nearer the bottom edge of the bed, between his and Bucky’s legs. Bucky actually shows interest in what's on the screen, so Steve chooses a Disney movie.

Bucky’s absolutely engrossed by it, although he does fall asleep practically the moment the credits roll. Steve makes a mental note to work his way through the back catalogue with Bucky. 

No one tells Steve what the security measures are. All he knows is that Jarvis will give him the green light, and that he is to take Bucky via elevator to their new apartment. Because Bruce’s Green room is in the basement, and there is no direct elevator that goes from the more public spaces in the tower to the private apartments, they will have to change cars once. 

Steve is under strict instructions to take the planned route, and not to deviate from it. At all.

Steve has Bucky’s hand in one of his, and Bucky’s two bags in the other. Bucky follows along pliantly enough, but his gaze does dart everywhere.

Once in the elevator, Bucky turns and stands, eyes still darting around. No buttons in here, Jarvis takes them to where they need to go. The elevators are more or less silent, Steve knows this. Well, silent enough that people without enhanced hearing wouldn’t know the difference. There’s a thrum and sleight whine from above the car, and it draws Steve’s attention immediately. Because Steve knows that sound. 

It’s an Iron Man suit. 

Bucky however, doesn’t, and he steps in front of Steve, using his one arm to herd him backwards, dropping into a sleight crouch as he growls at the ceiling. Steve goes, standing in the corner of the car while Bucky bristles and is clearly on high alert. 

“It’s okay Buck, we just have an escort, that’s all.”

When the elevator stops, the doors open onto a completely empty corridor, the Iron Man suit above the car falls silent, “Come on Buck, let’s go.”

Bucky’s looking at the ceiling, still jumpy, but allows Steve to lead him away, down the hall, into the next elevator, also standing ready with the doors open. This time, Bucky’s already looking at the ceiling, and doesn’t seem as stressed by the noise. He still makes a point of 'guarding' Steve though.

Bucky follows Steve out of the elevator, and as the doors start to close there is a loud, reverberating clang that draws Steve’s attention. The sound of the Iron Man suit moving on top of the car, Steve thinks. 

But as soon as the thought is complete in his head, he’s turning back, the pressure of Bucky’s hand has disappeared, only Steve instinctively holding on keeps the contact. Steve is dragged down with Bucky as he hits the floor, hard, and it takes a second for Steve to realize Bucky is having a seizure. 

Every muscle is taught and twitching, his eyes rolled back, his head snaps against the floor once before Steve gets his hand in between to take the brunt, “Jarvis!”

“Medical professionals already en route Captain. ETA ninety seconds.”

It quickly turns into the longest ninety seconds of Steve’s life. To not be able to do anything, just kneel next to Bucky, bags dropped and forgotten. Bucky doesn’t seem to be breathing, and Bucky’s lips start to turn blue. Steve hasn’t felt so helpless since he watched Bucky slip through his grasp the first time.

The fit has ended by the time three people in scrubs have appeared, it’s all already over and Steve has Bucky rolled onto his side. Steve sits back against the hall wall as they take Bucky’s blood pressure, pulse and oxygen levels.

The medical staff are talking to Jarvis about the length of the fit, and before they’ve properly finished taking their readings, Bucky is pushing them away and trying to get up. They back off, letting Bucky do his thing, and they back of further when he makes it to his feet and it’s clear Steve is there to help should he need it.

Steve guides Bucky through the open doorway of the apartment, performing a sleight course correction with a gentle nudge, preventing Bucky from walking straight into the door frame. Bucky’s gait is shuffling and confused. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say that Bucky was very very drunk. Bucky shambles around the apartment for several minutes before Steve nudges him towards the sofa. Bucky doesn't exactly seem to want to go, but he's also so clearly confused Steve pushes the issue, using his body to black Bucky's path and guide Bucky to where he wants him.

Getting him to finally sit on the sofa, Bucky sits back, and almost as Steve watches, he falls asleep.

That’s when Steve notices that his own hands are trembling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Bucky has a seizure


End file.
